The Rain
by SoraGirl
Summary: When the gang finds out someone close to them has been killed, they must band together for support. Slight RHr. Please R&R!
1. Part I

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter:(

Author's Notes: First part of a two parter :D Reviewers are loved!

_The Rain_

The halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were filled with the constant echo of rain.

"It's really coming down out there." Hermione looked out the window with slight interest, heaving up her heavy spell books for the next class.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, following Hermione's eyes as he gathered up his own belongings. "Shame it hasn't stopped Quidditch practice. Been raining like this for three weeks."

"What are you complaining about?" Hermione questioned, eyebrow raised. "I thought you loved Quidditch."

"I do!" Ron quickly interjected. "Just not in the rain. I don't love _anything_ in the rain." Harry laughed slightly, though it was clear he wasn't very focused on the conversation. Out of the three, he had been the most distant this year, still trying to move past Sirius's death and his less then perfect O.W.L.S. scores.

Hermione, on the other hand, had received top mark on _all_ her O.W.L.S, and had been more positive this year then they could ever remember her. "Well, don't worry Ron, I'm sure the rain will let up soon. After all, it can't rain forever," she said with a large, optimistic smile.

"Easy for you to say," Ron snorted grumpily. "_You_ don't have to fly a broom in it."

Hermione gave a warm hearted smile. "At least we have Transfiguration next. Professor McGongall hinted that we might start learning about Manaimi Transfiguration today!" Her eyes lit up at the thought.

"Manaimi Transfiguration? What's that? I don't remember her saying anything about it." Harry questioned confusedly. He wondered just how _little_ attention he had actually been paying.

He was relieved to find that Ron looked equally confused.

Hermione blushed slightly. "Yes, well, I said _hinted_ at it, didn't I?"

Though both boys laughed at their friend's ultra-observance, they wouldn't have been a bit surprised if today's lesson _was_ on Mannymea (or whatever it was) Transfiguration after all.

They walked in to find a very distressed looking professor at the front of their class. The trio exchanging questioning looks, but got no answers. "Please be seated," Professor McGongall announced, her steady voice shaking only slightly. The whispers flooding the room broke off abruptly.

The curious class obeyed, all eyes glued on their teacher. Professor McGongall gazed back on them, but try as she might to stop them, her eyes hit one student in particular. "Open your textbooks to page 787 and read chapter 19, 'Manaimi Transfiguration' in its entirety. If by some chance you should finish this before class ends, move on to the next chapter. Your quiz on this next lesson will be worth half off your grade, so I suggest you use your time wisely. If any of you so much as _thinks_ of talking, you will _fail_ this class and lose your house the House Cup. I kid you not."

The class was dead silent. _None_ of them needed to be told McGongall wasn't kidding. Her voice was ice cold and her eyes alone looked like they would burn a hole straight through you. Hermione looked absolutely beside herself, fumbling madly for her book with intentions of rereading the 200 page chapter at least 4 more times.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, if you would please follow me," McGongall said.

Hermione became completely frantic. "Professor, I was just getting my book out! I'm sorry! Please! I can't fail this class! I didn't mean to-"

If Harry didn't know any better, he could have sworn he saw some kind of deep pity in McGongall's eyes. "Please, you three," McGongall said, forcing her voice to become uncharacteristically soft in order to calm Hermione down.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Ron whispered confidently, a smile playing across his face. "I'm sure she just wants to congratulate us on another job well done."

With this, Hermione felt a little relieved. After all, Ron and Harry hadn't made any noise, so it wouldn't make sense to punish all three of them. McGongall must be giving them some good news.

They followed McGongall down the hall, past a few studying Slytherians, up a flight of stairs, and into the Headmaster's office.

"Hello," Professor Dumbledore said, the usual playfulness absent in his voice. "Please, you three, sit down."

Automatically, three chairs popped out of the wall and the trio sat down, never moving their eyes off Dumbledore's. Without saying anything to suggest it, they knew from the tone of his voice that something serious had happened.

"Last night, there were a series of attacks made on the members of the Order of the Phoenix and their contacts." Dumbledore gave them a moment to take this information in. None of them seemed too surprised; they knew the war was dangerous, especially for members of the Order.

"There were deaths," Dumbledore stated gently. Hermione emitted an involuntary gasp. Harry's thoughts flashed automatically to Lupin, his only living connection to his father. Ron, whose entire family worked for the Order, went ghostly pale.

Hermione, looking at her two terrified friends and feeling infinitely horrible for them, wished that Dumbledore would just get on with it.

Dumbledore, wishing with all his might that this was news he didn't have to give, continued. "Among them were Nymphadora Tonks, Arabella Figs…and, the Grangers."

The room froze.

"We're so sorry, Hermione," Professor McGongall whispered with complete sincerity, tears on the edges of her wrinkled eyes. If anyone noticed that this was the first time the old woman had called Hermione by her first name, they did nothing to acknowledge it.

Hermione stared blankly at them. Ten seconds ago she had been thinking how glad she was that her Mom and Dad were Muggles because they were safe from the war, now, she was being told they were dead. It was a truth she could not begin to comprehend.

"No," she whispered, pale enough to be dead herself. "No. My parents are Muggles…there'd be no reason…my parents are Muggles…there must be a mistake…they aren't in the Order…why would Voldemort go after them? It doesn't ma-make any sense. I…if…and… Why would he go after my parents? No sense..it…" she rambled, eyes glazed over and darting desperately around the room for support.

"He…had reasons to believe your parents were in contact with the Order…he thought he could scare them into revealing secrets…" Professor McGongall explained gently. "They didn't tell him anything."

"THEY DIDN'T **_KNOW_** ANYTHING!" Hermione yelled, knocking over her chair, tears falling from her eyes. "They wer- _are_ Muggles! You-you're wrong! Why would he even think that they-" But her voice trailed off as she answered her own question. Her wild eyes flashed onto Harry as if only now, lighted with disbelief and rage, could they see him for what he really was.

"NO!" she screeched again, not wanting to believe the truth that was beginning to piece together. She squeezed her eyes shut with all the force she had, not wanting a single ray of light or truth to seep in. She grabbed her ears with both hands, shaking her head wildly. "NO! NO! **_NOOOO!_** IT'S NOT TRUE! IT'S NOT TRUE! I DON'T BELIEVE YOU! YOU'RE **_LIARS_**! MY PARENTS AREN'T DEAD!" She shouted hysterically, crying, and shaking as her friends looked on in horror.

"Hermione," Professor McGongall started, now fully in tears from seeing the anguish of her student. She reached a hand to smooth Hermione's frazzled hair.

"GET AWAY FROM ME! ALL OF YOU! GET AWAY!" Hermione screamed, still crying, as her friends attempted to approach her too. She broke through the doors of the office and tore away quicker then they had ever seen her run.

The office was silent but for the soft sound of falling rain. Ron and Harry stared at their teachers with wide eyes.

"Go after her," Dumbledore solemnly instructed the two dazed boys. "You're the only family she has now."

Ron and Harry nodded and headed wordlessly down the stairs.

"These are just the first," Dumbledore said sadly as he watched them exit. "The worst is yet to come."

McGongall, who could think of nothing worse then what she had just watched, could only nod. "Perhaps so," she said, Hermione's distorted face still in her mind. "Perhaps so."

To be continued…


	2. Part II

Author's Note: Woo…without giving away any spoilers…I heart book 6! I figured I'd better get this out quickly, so I could start up some book 6 related fanfic ;D My apologies for misspellings, I do spell check, but that doesn't help on the Potter terms ;) Also, I've forgotten Hermione's parents names (if I ever knew them) so I just made some up ;)

_The Rain_

The two had been silent all the way to the door to the grounds. The Marauder's Map had showed Hermione running out there for quite some distance and finally stopping somewhere near the lake.

"You go on," Harry said, folding up the Marauder's Map and giving it to Ron. "I'll wait here."

"What do you mean you'll wait here?" Ron asked scandalously. "You've got to come Harry…I mean, you know what it's like to have..._that_ happen."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Ron, it's _my_ fault her parents are dead. I'm probably the _last_ person she wants to see right now."

"Harry-" Ron started sympathetically.

"Look, it doesn't matter. You should just go find her, make sure she's alright…let her know I'm sorry." He only wished he could tell her that himself.

Ron nodded, tucking the piece of paper into his cloak. He wasn't looking forward to going out into the pouring rain and trying (probably unsuccessfully) to comfort his friend, but he knew he had to.

The moment the rain hit his face, he wondered if he should turn back. After all, there was no telling what Hermione might do to him in the state she was in, and he was horribly frightened that he might make things even worse. He had been called an "insensitive git" on more then one occasion, and he was the first to admit that was true. He had _no_ idea what he could possibly say to his friend about something like this.

Still, the thought of Hermione crying alone somewhere out in the rain kept him going. Maybe he _did _have the 'emotional range of a teaspoon' but, he still cared very deeply about his friend. He wasn't going to let her be alone at a time like this. He whispered a quick spell to repel at least _some_ of the rain, and continued on.

With the help of the Marauder's Map, it wasn't long before he found her.

"Hermione," he yelled as the rain fell down around the both of them. She looked up at him with red eyes. He knew it would have taken her no effort at all to cast a spell to keep herself dry, but for some reason, she hadn't. She was soaked to the bone, rain running down every inch of her body.

"You're soaking wet!" he said, trying to get his voice heard over the rain.

"I don't care," she said softly. Her whispered words blew in out of the wind, whistling through Ron's ears.

Ron may not have known a lot about feelings, but he _did_ know a lot about being cold. It was freezing enough as it was, and probably 20 degrees colder if you were wet. "Impervus!" he shouted gently. A shield surrounded them both, protecting them from the world and from the rain, which slid helplessly down the sides.

Ron searched for something to say. "I'm…I'm so sorry, Hermione," he fumbled.

"Sorry won't bring them back," she breathed, tears flowing down her cheeks. She avoided Ron's gaze.

"No," he agreed quietly. Nervously, he sat down beside her. "I guess it won't."

Another silence allowed Ron the time it took to gather the courage to wrap his arm around his friend. The touch brought a strange snorting sound from Hermione as she attempted to suppress her tears, but that was simply asking too much. She snuggled closer to her friend, nestling her head in his chest, and started crying once again.

"I'm an orphan now, Ron…I'm an orphan," she cried, burying herself deeper into him, and sending a chill up his spine. She couldn't believe that in a matter of minutes, she had went from having two loving parents, to having no family at all. "I'm all alone."

"No, Hermione," Ron cooed, awkwardly stroking her wet hair. "_We're_ your family now. _We'll_ take care of you. Harry, he'd be here too, except…he wanted to apologize…for what happened."

"Oh Ron," she whimpered, giving him a tight squeeze. He really thought it was as easy as that, like all she was upset about was being alone. That wasn't even the half of it. "It's not Harry's fault. It's my fault. It's _my_ fault they're dead."

"What? Hermi-" Ron started with noted confusion.

"They were _Muggles_ Ron; they were _innocent_. They could have lived out their lives in peace if it hadn't been for me. _I_ brought them into this world, and it killed them," she began crying once again. "If it wasn't for me…they'd still be alive."

"That's not true," Ron asserted reverently. "You didn't _choose_ to be a witch, Hermione. You were born that way…it…it's not your fault." He winced, hating to refer to magic like some kind of curse, but wanting her to feel better all the same.

"No Ron, it _is_," she moaned softly, knowingly. "…they…they _knew_ it was getting dangerous. Back in fourth year…they asked me to leave the wizarding world…told me they'd spoken to my old headmistress, had it all arranged so I could go back to the way things were without any trouble…but I told them no," her voice cracked involuntarily, tears falling silently down her cheeks. "I told them no…I said…I said, 'I have to try and help'…and what good did it do? I didn't…I never thought...that _they_ would get hurt."

As Hermione broke into tears once again, Ron could only stare. The tall redhead had always had an unspoken curiosity about why his friend had been placed in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw. After all, Hermione was, unarguably, the most brilliant witch in the whole school, and Ravenclaw was the house that treasured intelligence. He had always assumed that the Sorting Hat made some kind of mistake, giving Gryffindor a lucky break. Now, as he sat in the middle of the pouring rain, looking at the crumpled girl, who had refused a chance at safety and given up everything in order to fight a war that wasn't even hers, he knew the Sorting Hat had been right all along. It had seen something Ron had not, because as brilliant as Hermione was…she was even more courageous.

"Hermione, without your help, Voldemort would have probably already been strong enough to start slaughtering Muggles as well as wizards. No one is innocent in his eyes. If you had left…your parents still may have died…" Ron tried.

Hermione didn't look convinced, digging her hands deeper into his sweater and whispering, "At least I would have had more time."

Realizing that no amount of logic would heal Hermione's guilt, Ron moved on to something else. "If you want to leave now…no one would think any less of you…"

"Leave?" she sniffled, looking up at him. "_Leave?_ Ron, you and Harry are all I have now. I wouldn't…I couldn't leave you. Besides, Voldemort will _pay_ for what he did."

At that moment, fire burning in her crying brown eyes, Ron had never loved her more.

"Let's get you inside," he whispered, squeezing her a bit tighter.

"Ron…" she moaned softly, still crying, still broken.

He hugged her even tighter, kissing the top of her head. "It's alright Hermione," he assured her. "It can't rain forever."

Hermione didn't move, but didn't object when Ron shifted under her arm and lifted her up. Slowly but surely, the two made their way back to the castle. Harry was still there, waiting nervously at the door. Hermione looked up at him with forgiving eyes. Without another word, he submerged her in an empathetic hug.

The two boys guided her silently to the Gryffindor common room, where they were instantly surrounded by hoards of curious students. Harry warded as many of them off as he could, while Ron continued on his way to the girls' dormitory.

Silently cursing the founders distrust of boys (however well-placed it may have been), he beckoned Ginny out of the crowd. Lavender and Parvti appeared at once, feeling it was their god-given duty to know exactly what was going on. Two seconds of their high-pitched voices and faked concern and Ron _knew_ Hermione would _hardly_ be able to take a whole night of that.

"Maybe you should stay somewhere else tonight," Ron suggested, causing Lavender and Parvti to look horribly offended.

"No Ron, I'm alright," Hermione assured him, slowly coming back to reality. Still, Ron was less then pleased with the idea of her being stuck with only the company of Lavender and Partvi for the rest of the night.

"Don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone tonight," he admitted.

Once again, Lavender and Parvti gasped scandalously. "She won't be alone! She'll have _us_! If _one_ of you would just tell us what's going _on_!"

Ron looked at them tiredly. "Like I said 'Mione, best if you stayed somewhere else."

Hermione looked at the girls once and then gave a quick, thankful nod.

Harry, who had convinced most of the other Gryffindors that nothing was wrong, approached Ron and Hermione. "What's going on?"

"Think we ought to stay in the common room, you know, just till everything settles down," Ron said, gazing back at Lavender and Parvti so that Harry might understand.

"Oh," he commented apprehensively. "Yeah."

"I need to go upstairs for just a minute then, get some things," Hermione said, slightly dazed.

Ron glanced nervously at Harry. "We could just send Ginny up…"

"I'm fine, Ron," Hermione said and was able to manage a feeble smile because of Ron's concern. "I'll only be a moment."

"Alright," Ron said hesitantly, following her to the door.

"Oh _Hermione_!" Lavender squeaked. "What _happened_?"

Hermione, still lost in her own world, only nodded and continued up the stairs.

Lavender looked like she had never been so offended in her life. She turned to Parvti and gave an irritated snort. "Like I care anyway, probably just forgot her homework for Potions class or something."

Ron was enraged. "Why don't you two just _shut up_? You have _no idea_ what Hermione is going through," he shouted, using all of his strength not to land a punch on one. Harry automatically rose to see what was happening.

"Ooohh," Lavender grinned. "No need to get so _sensitive_, Ron. _I _think you could do _much_ better, anyway." At this, the two girls broke into laughter.

"I swear-" Ron started in a low growl, pulling out his wand. He was stopped by the sound of Hermione coming back down the stairs. Her dazed eyes surveyed the scene with a vague unknowingness.

"What's going on?" she asked, clutching a small box in her arms.

"Nothing!" Lavender smiled quickly, "Nothing at all! You just feel better now!" Knowing the risks of staying any longer, she grabbed Partvi's hand and tramped up the stairs. Ron, wanting to cause Hermione no alarm, stayed silent on the matter and so Harry did the same.

So the three made an agreement that they would wait in the common room until they could be sure the girls in the dormitory were asleep. However, when Ron asked what was in the box that Hermione clutched so tightly, she began crying lightly again and Ron, in all his guilt and love, held her close, stroking her hair, until they both faded off into sleep. Harry smiled before covering them with a blanket, and nodding off as well.

For the next few months, Ron took all the energy he had once used to annoy Hermione, and put it into protecting her. As the news spread around the school, he became her personal bodyguard, escorting her to and from classes, screaming threats at any Slytherian who so much as looked at her and often, at well-meaning sympathizers. While all of this grew rather annoying, Hermione appreciated everything he had done for her, and the two grew closer then ever.

Talk of parents or family of any kind was avoided like the plague until Christmas, when it was necessary to know where Hermione was planning to go. They had approached the subject delicately and Hermione, who had already told them how foolish she thought she had acted, had returned to her normal, proud, unwavering self and told them casually that she would have to stay at Hogwarts. Of course, Ron simply would not have this and invited them both to Christmas with his family, which neither could refuse.

And so, time passed and things returned to normal with a few exceptions. For one, the Gryffindor common room was no longer filled with the sound of Ron and Hermione's constant bickering, but instead, with their quiet conversations or laughter, both having realized the fragility of life and the importance of friendship. The other difference was small, noticed only by Ron and perhaps Harry. It was those silent, tearful stares Hermione would shoot out into the distance and the way her eyes no longer twinkled, but burned. Hermione was not as stoic to tragedy as she tried to appear.

It was the last week of term when she approached him. He was laying out in front of the fire, tossing bits of parchment in and watching them crinkle and burn.

"I'm studying! I swear! I was just taking a break!" he yelled fearfully, fumbling to reach a book.

"I have somewhere to go," she told him quietly. "Would you come with me?"

He raised a questioning eyebrow, but her face was plain and unresponsive.

"Sure," he said.

And so, she led him silently down the stairs, through the halls, and out the doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not too far from the school was what looked like a particularly ugly rock, and without realizing why, Ron was filled with a sudden want to get as far away from it as he could. But Hermione stopped him, reaching with one hand, and using the other to touch the rock.

A second later they were gone, whisked off to some other place.

"A portkey?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Professor McGongall set it up for me."

Ron looked around his surroundings. The place was dull, dark, damp, and soaked with a special kind of misery that Ron couldn't explain. When he looked up again, he saw that Hermione was holding a bouquet of brightly colored flowers in her hand. Suddenly, it all came together.

"I didn't want to go alone," she explained, walking through the rusted iron gates, and down rows of wetted grass. Ron said nothing, but understood.

The two graves looked small and plain among their towering counterparts. Engraved in small, wispy letters on the first was "_Jane M. Granger_. _1962-2004._" And on the second, "_Paul H. Granger. 1959-2004."_ For the first time since it had all begun, it was suddenly real for both of them. Hermione's parents were dead. There they were, beneath the earth, their names carved in stone. They were dead.

It was Hermione who took the first step. Laying her flowers in front of them, she pressed her hand to her mouth, then softly again on each grave. "I love you," she told them quietly, hoping somehow they would hear.

She turned from them, taking Ron's hand in her own.

"Hermione?" he questioned weakly as they passed through the graveyard gate once more.

She smiled, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Oh Ron," she whispered, reaching up touch a hand to his cheek. "It can't rain all the time."

_No_, he thought, as her tiny lips reached up to meet his, _it couldn't_.

_**Fin.**_

Thanks so much for reading! Please review:D


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